A question came in via my personal Tumblr blog that I thought you might be interested in. For sure, I think it deserves some of your attention, so I’m addressing it here. That question:
Q: If games have texts (the rule books and source material), then they have subtexts. Do you consider the subtexts of the games you’re writing? That you’re running? How do you reach your conclusions?
For weeks, I’ve been wrestling with a good, rich answer to this—something that’d offer some insight into how subtext gets elegantly set under a text. While wrestling, I emailed this question to Jeff, naturally, and here’s what he had to say:
My immediate reaction is that the subtext of a game you’re designing can’t be baked in on purpose, almost by definition. And I think that if you did try to create subtext proactively, you’d probably make the game worse as a game, in the same way that most of the time you make a straight story worse by trying to advance some kind of theme in advance of telling a high-quality story.
I think a game can have a subtext, just as a novel (say) can obviously have a theme. But I think it’s best to allow each to arise organically based on what the designer or author happens to think, the unique spin and baggage that they bring to the project.
I’ve never considered, in a serious way, the subtext of a game I’ve worked on, that I can think of.
It’s probably worth settling on a definition for subtext as I, for example, don’t agree with Jeff that subtext can’t be baked in. I think subtext tends to be emergent, in addition to that which you add as an ingredient, but that you can stir theme into the mix and hope that it comes across in the final taste of the thing.
Let’s use the OAD’s definition of subtext, ’cause I have it handy: “an underlying and often distinct theme in a piece of writing or conversation.” That pairs well with what we’re talking about, since RPGs are both writing and conversation.
Whatever my answer to that first question, far above, I know that we have to understand that the subtext of a game text and the subtext of a game session are two different things. When we identify the identity of a game, are we talking about the textual artifact—the book—or the experience of actual play. One is not indicative of the other, necessarily, and only one of those, the book, is easily comparable.
Is the subtext of a Vampire supplement or the Trail of Cthulhu rulebook the subtext of the game or just the book? What do we even mean when we try to identify a game? What combination of text and play is that?
Without agreeing on an answer to that thorny beast, I feel comfortable saying that, yes, I consider the subtext of games that I’m writing and running.
It’s difficult, in actual practice, to prescribe subtext for multi-author books like a Vampire covenant book, for example, but I tried. I tried, but things either got lost in the subtext that emerged naturally during the writing process or, more often, subtext become actual text as we leveled with the reader directly about the themes of the book and the ways those themes could come out during play. Ritualized hunts for human blood became actual ritualized English hunting parties, for example, which has some subtext to it, but is pretty boldly textual, too.
I mean, look, the hunting party celebrating and formalizing the act is right there in front of your character. That says pretty clearly that these vampires have socialized and domesticated their personal act of horror, attempted to tame it like a dog, even if we know that each one of them has a Beast within, unable to be tamed. Everything we implied, about the irony of aristocrats bent on keeping themselves hidden simultaneously going to all this trouble to ritualize something base and horrific, showing it off to each other so that they don’t feel so alone, was probably either magnified into direct text or lost.
Subtext is easy to reject in a game book, though. I recall some people rejecting the hunting parties of these socialite vampires because they skirted against the Masquerade and diminished the horror of the hunt. That’s a fair argument, I suppose, because the ritualized hunting parties did just that. It was the whole point of the hunting parties dramaturgically. But because we didn’t say it outright, it either got missed or didn’t count. Or something.
That’s the risk of using subtext as a load-bearing support in an RPG book. You can sometimes do that in a novel, in which you have a great story (one hopes) as the reason to show up and read. The theme and subtext may be bonus treasure for those readers who notice it. But in an RPG book, which is part encyclopedia, part fictional travelogue, part technical guide, leaving material to subtext is like leaving it partly hidden. It might go unnoticed. That’s no good for a guidebook that purports to be there to train the reader to evoke subtext during play.
The book needs to hand subtext right to the reader and say, “Here’s some theme. Go and tie it around the hunting party’s bridle and see if anyone notices.”
(Except for when it doesn’t. Gaming books like Vampire’s covenant books and clan books are reading material, rather than technical guides, for no small number of customers. So I kept striving for subtext, right or wrong, to give some depth for readers. My Ventrue clan book is loaded with subtext both intentional and not, thanks to where I was emotionally when I wrote it.)
As for subtext in gaming sessions… that’s a whole other post. Stay tuned for that one.
All of this is separate from the notion of subtext that emerges organically from the writing and reading process, I suppose, but I can’t afford to write more than 900 words about this today.
What sort of subtext have you found in your game books? What’s the subtext underneath your favorite RPG rulebook?
(Subtext can get you into trouble—I think I was reading subtext all over Apocalypse World where I shouldn’t have been.)
Thank you so much for answering my question! I think it’s much easier to tackle subtext in game books than in game play, but I look forward to reading anything you might have to say about that, too.
What gave rise to my comment was reading Gregor Hutton’s 3:16 Carnage Amongst the Stars. His writing is sharp and brutal, like the game world he’s presenting, and I was particularly struck by what the callous, psychopathic nature of the troopers said about Earth, especially considering their last (shared) Weakness: Hatred for Home.
But then what about using the system to put forward a theme or subtext? Vince Baker somewhere described one of the subtexts in Dogs in the Vineyard as “the person losing the argument throws the first punch”. That is a broad statement on human nature, and applicable to more than just Mormon cowboy stories. And it is never quite explicit in the text (you could escalate when winning, I guess) but emerges naturally in play. The rules could be used to reinforce subtexts and themes without being an overt statement of said theme.
Absolutely, Nick. To my mind, that kind of theme lands square between the text and actual play. Game rules can put themes directly into play, and Dogs in the Vineyard is a stellar example of that in action.
But are game rules part of the subtext of actual play or part of the text?
I think different groups would give us different answers. I mean, can critical hits become a theme? It depends how the group incorporates critical hits into the text of their story, right?
(In my Northsea Saga D&D campaign, I had a seeress foretell critical hits and future rolls by giving the PCs die-roll results they could cash in later on, which turned theme into a game mechanic. When those rolls were cashed in, I incorporated them into the text of the game-story as best I could, describing them as foretold events—blows the Fates prescribed to hit or miss.)
I might argue that one of the themes of D&D is that defense is static and reliable while offense is unpredictable but with a potential for excellence—you don’t roll defense but you do roll attack; there’s no such thing as a critical dodge in D&D, but there is a critical hit. The text of the game doesn’t exactly dial into that subtext, but it’s arguably there if it’s detectable by a reader.
I don’t know where I’m going with that, but that seems to be a theme for today’s post. 🙂
I tend to think of subtext as when the overt fictional events are generalized into a statement about humanity or the universe. So the primary subtext of 4th edition D&D is “the good guys win in the end.” The critical hit rules (and most other rules) reinforce that: the PCs get substantial benefits fromcrits, but most monsters do not.
The subtext of previous editions was clearly different (“Clever heroes pick the right battles” or something along those lines), so the critical hit and fumble rules were different. The critical hit and fumble rules of something like Rolemaster reinforce a theme that combat is dangerous and unpredictable and almost anything could happen.
I tend to think of subtext in gamebooks primarily in the sense you didn’t have space for — the layer that emerges in the writing process. I find most of my writing ends up with a subtextual point. Sometimes that’s something you know in advance: “this one’s really about how the NPC loves her dog more than human life.” Other times, it’s something you figure out; “oh, wait, they’re all about the physical pain of starvation.”
Sure, you level with the audience, but generally the point should be there without you having to poke with it. (I’m preaching, here, because it’s a balance I’m neurotic about.)
The danger in saying that is that someone will assume you’re trying to make something that’s not “just a game” or “just telling a good story” or whatever. Nope. I make game books. If what I’m writing doesn’t flow into your game, then I’m not hitting my goal.
Having a point (or really, several) is what makes gaming material useless. If I just put Murder Dwarves in a hex for no reason, then they shouldn’t be there. And why they’re there, what they mean… that should be obvious, or my Murder Dwarves are too subtle.
When your Murder Dwarves are too subtle, you have a problem.
It’s interesting that the original interrogator was thinking of 3:16 in asking the question, because it was certainly the first thing I thought of when reading the question.
3:16 is significantly flawed mechanically in many respects, but it may be essentially unique in crafting a relatively precise set of mechanics which are designed to create a very specific subtext at the gaming table as a campaign evolves. The expression of that subtext will be characterized by the formation of the “text” created in each group’s playing of the game, but is nevertheless pervasive.
The game is so effective at doing this that many people feel “cheated” or “tricked” when they discover what the game is doing (because this subtext really is incredibly difficult or impossible to spot by simply reading the rules).
Russell, is this what you meant? “Having a point (or really, several) is what makes gaming material useless.”
If an element is “too” anything that’s a problem, isn’t it? The trick is to make things subtle without being excessively subtle. This is the risk when putting something into the subtext, right? That you’ll put it only in the subtext and it’ll end up getting missed or, in the case of 3:16 and its ilk, emerging unexpectedly and, perhaps, unhappily during play.
That said, I think subtext has its place, but putting empty or meaningless text on top of something just to make it “deeper” is no good. Murder Dwarves need to make some kind of sense, but they can also make more than one kind of sense, can’t they?
The question is—as it was in an earlier post, which is why I brought this up half-cooked this week—should a game text have things like subtext if that means there’s a chance that material will go unnoticed by a player looking to use that text to its fullest during play?
Put another way, should a gamer have to be able to glean subtext to get the most out of a text? Or should it all be there on the book’s proverbial sleeve?
Justin, at the risk of being a spoiler for 3:16, can we talk more about the subtext you’re referring to?
“Russell, is this what you meant? ‘Having a point (or really, several) is what makes gaming material useless.'”
Ah, crap. Useful. Sorry, been coming and going from the computer rapidly all day.
“That said, I think subtext has its place, but putting empty or meaningless text on top of something just to make it ‘deeper’ is no good.”
Absolutely. “Depth” for depth’s sake is basically a kind of padding.
“Murder Dwarves need to make some kind of sense, but they can also make more than one kind of sense, can’t they?”
Oh, yes, and they should. What I’m trying to say is that subtext is a natural part of gaming material. The problem is when your subtext becomes obscure. I don’t have much of a solution for that other than correcting myself when I see it happening.
@Will: I’ve been thinking about this more, and I think the subtext in 3:16 is essentially a deliberate form of emergent gameplay.
The one people frequently point to is the fact that your final Weakness has to be “Hatred for Home”. And that’s certainly a lynchpin for the subtext, but it doesn’t qualify as subtext in and of itself (because it’s pretty blatantly text).
The real subtext comes into play when you start looking at things like the Responsibilities and Resources PCs get access to at higher ranks. For example, consider the Starkiller missiles (which obliterates entire star systems). From a purely textual standpoint these are used to “obliterate star systems that are deemed too dangerous to assault directly”.
But you get access to Starkiller missiles when you become a Colonel. And one of the colonel’s responsibilities is Order 14: “Kill those who disobey orders.”
Wait a minute. On the one hand you have a weapon designed to wipe out entire star systems? On the other you have an order to kill those who disobey orders? And you’ve wrapped them both up into a structure of “no matter the consequences”?
Add in the “Corrupt Troopers” alien type (where, at some point, you’ll find yourself fighting troopers who have turned against Earth) and you’re layering in more context.
One bit of unintentional subtext in 3:16 is that “only fighting matters” because, from a mechanical standpoint, only Fighting Ability is relevant in terms of accomplishing your goals. (I know it’s unintentional because Hutton has said as much. He doesn’t even really comprehend the mechanical imbalance of Non-Fighting Ability in his design because he doesn’t appear to be at all interested in resolution mechanics.)
@Nick: That’s interesting. I think that the subtext of D&D is “Might makes right,” and that this has been true for all of the editions to date. It’s a game about the most powerful guy killing the other guys and taking their stuff.
The fact that we can disagree reasonably on this point is why subtext is interesting to me, and more so when the subtext wasn’t shoveled in by an author looking to make a point (because when shoveled in, it’s usually too blatant—and thereby, for me, too uninteresting—to particularly warrant deep discussion).
Subtext can be “cooked” right into the game. It’s a matter of exposition. Shadowrun used to have these “side conversations” in all their books that were excellent for detailing subtext. The main text of the book showed the rules, the sidelines gave the GM and the player a lot of “fictional” context that was always tinted by attitude of the “speaker.”
I agree that Shadowrun‘s old-school, in-character sidebars were awesome for showing (rather than telling) details about the world, but I don’t think it was subtext. I definitely don’t think that subtext can be delivered in exposition. If it’s exposited, it’s “text”—rather than “subtext”—by definition, isn’t it?
It’s important to recognize, of course, that we’re sometimes right on the border between literal and figurative subtext during this discussion. Also, I think a discussion of D&D’s subtext is straight-up fascinating, in part because of the scale of subtext the reader reveals—something universal (to the game or to life), or something smaller and emergent from a single system or mechanism. I don’t think subtext is necessarily only the biggest theme achievable, though of course discovering such themes is both fun and potentially enlightening, too.
Something I’m thinking about right now: Emergent gameplay emerges from the subtext to become part of the text. I’m not sure that’s right, but I’m thinking about it.